August 11, 2002

Twelfth Pentecost

Matthew 14:22-33; Romans 10:5-15; Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28

We have all seen enough movies or watched enough television to recognize the following words: Stay where you are.—Don’t move-stay perfectly still and you’ll be just fine.—Walk slowly towards me—don’t look down—just keep walking and you’ll make it.—Trust me—I can get you out of this but you have to do exactly what I say, now… When there is danger—when there is threat—faced with the question of how to survive—the majority of us are more inclined to seek some assurance—some direction—We want to hear the words that will guide us to safety. So the terrorist threats are met by words of assurance that our nation’s defenses are strong—that if we hold true to our course we will triumph over the threats of evil and fear. So the economy is unstable and the expectation is that there will be words to rebuild confidence and the promise of the future. Every time there is a crisis or disaster the telephone lines become busy as we reach out to those around us. We want to trust and believe that we are not alone. And ultimately the nature and meaning of faith is based on the assumption that there is a God who cares about us and for us. In short, using the metaphor from our Gospel lesson for today—we want to know that we are all in the same boat.

That is where the disciples found themselves in our lesson—out in a boat together crossing the Sea of Galilee. Some quick contextualization is helpful here—The Sea of Galilee is not all that big—at least not compare to Lake Michigan which is in our community’s back yard—At the north end of the Sea of Galilee where our story is likely to have taken place—On most any day you can see across to the other shore and on a clear day you can see the hills that rise up at the southern shore. Admittedly the water is surrounded by mountains and some very rugged hill country which causes storms and weather conditions to change rather quickly—occurring often with little or no warning. We also need to remember that those who were sailing included a number of fishermen familiar with this body of water. That may explain why there is no indication that the disciples were afraid of the wind and waves that they were battling—What spooked the disciples was the appearance of what they were sure was a ghost walking towards them over the water. While the wind and waves were not pleasant—they clearly were not totally unexpected or beyond the ability of the disciples—What was beyond their control was the appearance of the unexpected. This is true for most of us as we journey through life—we expect that there will be times in our lives when the sailing gets a bit rough and we are buffeted by challenges at our job, in our homes and in our daily lives. But we do not anticipate the totally unexpected.

That is why the events of the past year have been so unsettling. Terrorists used to figure in reports from the foreign press—not a part of the domestic scene. There were many cries of fear in sightings of ghosts following the events of last September 11—in our fear of the unexpected we saw ghosts of terror every where. A similar experience has occurred in the economy as we struggle to know where to place our confidence and dollars in the wake of numerous corporate and accounting scandals. The unexpected ghosts come walking towards us from directions that bring fear. We want to hear a word of assurance—And that is what Jesus offers his disciples—after they cry out in fear he replies, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” I basically hear these words as Jesus assuring his disciples that all is well—stay in the boat and steady on your course and you will reach the shore—further more I am with you. Steady as she goes—full speed ahead—that would be the captains refrain. But Peter—well, this is where the Gospel from Matthew differs from the other versions of this story in Mark or Luke—Peter—to some what happens next is testimony to why Peter is a favorite of many. There is no doubt that Peter was a bit impulsive—tending to speak before he thought—acting before considered the full implication of his deeds. Peter—which means rock—is the nicknamed Jesus had given Simon the Fisherman—Some say he is the original “Rocky” character—Jesus had suggested that Peter’s faith would be a solid foundation for the community of followers he was creating—But in this case there is a moment of doubt—The ghost on the water claims to be Jesus but Peter questions his eyes—Peter says, “Lord, if…”—This “if” is the center of most of our lives—“if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”

Will Willimon has Peter saying it this way—“Lord if you are the Son of God and can do anything for us that we want, call me out on the water and prove it to me. Let’s just see how much of a Son of God you are. Maybe Peter is also saying “Lord, if you think I’m the premier disciple, the real rock of the church as you have said earlier, then show it to everybody else by keeping me safe on the waves. Prove that I’m special, better than the rest, that the rules of life don’t apply to me because I’m a good Christian. Peter is invariably there to blurt out the wrong thing at the wrong time, but we love him for it because Peter often speaks for us and says to Jesus just what we sometimes say. “Lord, because I’ve served you all my life and have tried to do right, make me exempt from the storm of illness. Show the world that I am your fair-haired child by enabling me to rise above the storms of life that bedevil less faithful people. Or, “Lord, since I’ve gone to the trouble to be here at church in the middle of summer on a Sunday morning, show me some irrefutable sign that you really are who the church claims you to be. Do something to prove to me that my faith in you is justified. Peter’s response to Jesus is rooted in doubt-“if it is you”—there is a test of faith but it is unclear if it is Peter or Jesus who is being tested. The answer Jesus gives is simple but I wonder about the tone of his voice—I find that when I imagine Jesus’ voice as he offers his one word response, “Come” it is not so much a reassuring and supportive tone as it is more the voice of exasperation— An exhaling—“Come” as if to say—All right Peter, Come to me. But just once it wouldn’t hurt for you to be less impetuous and simply do what you are asked —stay in the boat and you will all be just fine. I wonder—which requires more faith—to stay in the boat and believe that Jesus will deliver you or believe that your faith is such an amazing gift that you can even walk on water.

History is filled with stories of those who trusted and survived. In 1914 the ship Endurance set sail from England for Antarctica on an expedition led by Ernest Shackleton with the goal of the first trans-Antarctica. Crossing. The ship actually became ice bound in the Waddell Sea before ever reaching Antarctica and after over 280 days of being trapped in the ice was crushed and sank. The crew, led by Shackleton, survived for six months on the ice before making their way by lifeboats to a rocky arctic island— That is where Shackleton told the crew to stay until we returned. He then set out with five men to sail 800 miles across the roughest ocean in the world to the Georgia Whaling Station. Once safe himself, Shackleton then made three times to rescue his crew that failed due to the ice packs before finally succeeding 3 months later. The crew had waited as he had commanded. Of the 56 men who left England three years earlier—Shackleton returned with 53. They had believed his promise and they lived. Recently we rejoiced in the rescue of nine miners from the Pennsylvania’s Quecreek mine—Their survival was described repeatedly as a miracle—That they all survived has been credited to the fact that they stayed together—even tied themselves together so that no one would be lost to the waters and the darkness and the cold 240 feet below ground. Stay in the boat—in the community of faith—believing together in the promise before us. But Peter stepped out—and at first he takes easy strides toward the source and center of his faith—But then as he noticed the violence of the winds and the waves he began to sink and cried out “Lord, save me!”

With so much confidence and certainty of purpose we step out again and again in faith to do the great deeds that need doing—Political promises—Corporate ideals—Social solutions—Educational reform—Medical Wholeness for all—Time and again we voice the hope and ideal but then reality intrudes—the winds that we thought were at our back to carry us through begin to blow in other directions and we find ourselves stepping out alone—and the best intentions begin to sink below the waters of busy schedules, other priorities, interests and agendas. Missing the miracle—distracted by all that surrounds us—we take our eyes off the source of our faith and inspiration—We miss the miracle—It happens. A small town got a new minister. The minister had grown up in the big city—no one was too sure about how it would work out but the call committee assured everyone that this minister was especially gifted. Two of the good old boys in the congregation decided to do their part to check out the new preacher and invited him to join them fishing. The city breed pastor had never been fishing—but he didn’t find it so bad. As the day wore on the fishing got better and better—but the preacher kept looking at his watch—Finally he informed the others that he had to get back for a meeting at the church. “No Way”, said Joe. The fishing is just getting good.” The preacher waited a half hour and repeated the request to call it a day and head back to shore. “Looks like you’re going to have to swim, Reverend,” said Sam. “Joe never leaves when the fish are still biting.” “You sure you won’t go ashore?” asked the pastor. “Nope,” came the reply. So the preacher stood up in the boat, stepped over the side and walked across the water to the shore—up the bank and got in his car. “Well, look at that,” said Joe to Sam, “—not only does the preacher have no respect for fishing but he can’t swim either.”

We measure the world by our priorities and expectations. The gift of faith is not a solitary gift—the community of faith—those gathered against the storms of this world are gathered to witness the miracle of Christ’s presence—coming to us in the unexpected forms and places that meet us even in the moments of darkness and fear. The unexpected is the opportunity for discovering the miracles of grace. Jesus reached out his hand and caught the sinking Peter—then they climbed into the boat and the wind ceased. In Christ’s presence there is no fear—there is instead a new moment of insight—the disciples suddenly seem to get it—the “aha” moment when they fully recognize Jesus—“Truly you are the Son of God”. So we gather this morning—all in the same boat—a few of us may have even been tempted to step out on our own and deal with the world on our terms—but the gift of grace has brought us faithfully to this moment—gathered together—invited to the table of grace where by faith we recognize the real presence of our Lord in with and under the bread and the wine. In this moment of worship we might even feel a little like taking a few steps on the water—Don’t look down—Just walk straight ahead—Straight toward the cross and everything will be all right.

Amen.